What We've Started
by Vaudeville
Summary: Dan steals Rorschach's journal and is excited by what he finds inside. PWP. Kink Meme fill.


For the Kink Meme.

* * *

He's barricaded the door. Part of him, the rational part, knows it's fruitless, but it's a measure. Unlike the window, which is wide open, leading out from his bedroom to his fire escape and beyond. Every time the curtain billows in the wind, he glances up, scared out of his wits that he's going to be found out.

But he just can't tear his eyes away from the journal.

Rorschach is going to kill him. Fillet his skin off and fry him like a fish. He can't remember now, what had come over him when he filched his partner's journal while he showered. It was too easy, laying there with its little frayed bookmark, calling out to Dan. _open me! read me!_

The shower was no longer running down the hall and Dan was almost certain that shadow beneath his door hadn't been there a moment ago. He should stop, hide the evidence of his crime, and act like it never happened. But he can't stop, not when he's this close, not when he wants this so very much, all he can do is tell himself to keep quiet, not to stroke all the way down where the butt of his fist would slap loudly at the base. _Oh, god, my zipper is jingling. _Dan closes his eyes tight and prays that no one else can hear the his heart hammering or the impatient, choking gasps.

He holds the journal too tightly, wrinkling the page. _He'll see it and he'll know and he'll crucify me. _A soft whimper escapes his lips and when he looked to the door, the shadow is gone.

"Aw, fuck," he whispers, glancing to the window anxiously as he bucks wildly into his fist. _You want to be caught, _his mind taunted, _You want him to see you and punish you and take you..._ Dan bites his lip and swallows down the wail that rises in throat, then carries on reading.  
_  
thrust into him. enveloped in heat. feels too good. feels like righteous vindication. years of tempered longing. cries my name. shameful whimpering sounds. cherish it. want to taste it. lips crushed to face. hands are shaking, weaving into hair as realize too late that whimpering is my own. so close. too hot. need release like need air. like need him.  
_  
The lines short and staccato like Dan's labored breathing and the quick jerks of his fist inside his jeans. He had never even considered, never even _fathomed _that Rorschach could want this, that he would fantasize, much less _write_ about it. His legs quiver and he doesn't know if he is more anxious to finish reading or to finally come.

_losing control. slave to decadent pleasures. feels wrong but can't be. is so purely and wholly right. need him to finish what I started. can't myself. 'Come for me, Nite Owl.'_

Dan chokes out a moan as he feels his cock convulse and he looks up to see the silhouette of a figure, crouched, tense, and swirling in his window. And then his eyes roll back into his head as white hot sparks shoot behind his eyes and suffuse through his body, and he only vaguely hears the rasping snarl outcry.

"No, _no_, Daniel, don't!"

And he's gone.

When Dan comes back to himself, he is laying back on his bed, staring at his ceiling. He is on cloud nine, his body absolutely humming with a release so fine that he hopes it never ends.

There is a low, harsh murmur that reaches his ears. Dan turns his head, seeing nothing, then sits up in his bed. He finds Rorschach with his back turned, hunched over something, muttering and, _oh god_, wiping his bare fingers against his trench coat, leaving behind _dark. wet. smears.  
_  
"Rorschach?" Dan queries, though he has no idea what question he means to ask, and suddenly he is being hauled off the bed by his shirt lapels, his vision filled with black and white that whirls so rapidly it makes him dizzy.

"How _could_ you, Daniel?" Rorschach screeches desperately while Dan struggles to hold his jeans up. "Ruined everything! Have to rewrite entire journal now because of your--"

The masked man's words are cut off as he is tackled by his partner onto the bed. Dan lips are crushed to his mask and Rorschach makes a sound like a whimper. His hands are shaking as they weave into Dan's hair.

"I need you too," Dan whispers.

And he finishes what Rorschach started.


End file.
